


here in your doorway

by Ann1215



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Kaito has nightmares, Kaito takes care of an injured Shinichi, M/M, Pining, mentions of trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25701625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann1215/pseuds/Ann1215
Summary: Kudou lifts his head, blood trickling down the side of his bruised up, pretty face.“... Had to,” he mumbles, slurs really, before removing his grip from the door, swaying unsteadily on his feet as he lifts the corner of his split lips. “Sorry, didn’t know where else to go."
Relationships: Kudou Shinichi | Edogawa Conan/Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid
Comments: 1
Kudos: 277





	here in your doorway

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a prompt that said something along the lines of the hero showing up at the villain's doorstep bleeding and bruised up to hell, and my brain went KAISHIN like a dumbass
> 
> Kaito isn't a villain, but I still couldn't shake off the thought and promptly vomited this out in a couple of hours so I apologise for any errors
> 
> tw for aftermath of assault and wound stitching

_Thud._

Pause.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

A loud series of knocking on the door at one in the morning doesn’t usually bring good news — and that’s without adding in the fact that Kaito had only been retired as Kaitou Kid for a little over two years now, complete with the recurring nightmares and trauma to prove it. Tonight had been one of the worse ones, and he’d given up on sleep for the night.

Kaito pauses from when he’d been trying to feed Hato-chan, who had pecked his fingers for all of his trouble, and glances down the dark hallway. He has three seconds to wonder if the card gun, hidden in the table right beside the _genkan_ would be enough, before the knocking starts again.

_Knock. Knockknock._

_Someone’s feeling antsy,_ he thinks, and glances down at his attire.

Well, he’s taken down police officers in more embarrassing outfits than a ragged t-shirt and sweats. Avoiding the creaky spots on his living floor, Kaito carefully makes his way towards the door, and along the way, reaches out to grab and tuck the card gun in his waistband as he reaches for the handle.

_Knock—_

“Do you have any—Kudou?”

Once-rival turned university friend, he and Kudou Shinichi had inevitably found their way towards each other back in first year, in an eight o’clock Business 101 class of all things. They’d become close since then, with Aoko, Hakuba, Ran and the others, and usually they would visit each other’s hometowns during the holidays. But Kaito had heard from the man himself that he would be busy this summer break before their third year, and now Kaito can see why.

“Kudou, you…” The detective’s bright blue eyes are visibly glazed over as he stares at somewhere around Kaito’s shoulder, even under the dim patio light, but it’s the way he’s leaning against the doorway, panting heavily that steals the rest of Kaito’s words away.

 _He’s hurt,_ Kaito’s mind informs him uselessly. _And he’s all the way in Ekoda—a case?_

And then Kudou lifts his head, blood trickling down the side of his bruised up, pretty face.

“... Had to,” he mumbles, slurs really, before removing his grip from the door, swaying unsteadily on his feet as he lifts the corner of his split lips. “Sorry, didn’t know where else to go—”

Kaito catches him just as Kudou pitches forward in a dead faint.

“Guess Hato-chan’s gonna have to wait for supper,” he murmurs, jaw already clenching at the sight of the rips on the back of Kudou’s usual suit jacket. There’s a moment where he’s genuinely terrified of dropping the other man as he hoists the guy over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, but Kaito gets his bearings, and kicks the door shut behind him.

Despite Kudou’s lean build, Kaito still finds himself struggling with the weight, and he winces as he drops the detective onto his couch none too gently, nearly falling over as well. From this close and under the stark living room light, it’s easy to see that Kudou had gone through a pretty rough time.

“The hell did you get yourself into this time, Meitantei?” Kaito whispers, shaky hand hovering over Kudou’s face, before leaving to put away his card gun, and get the first aid kit, some clean towels as well as a tub of hot water.

When he returns, Kudou hasn’t moved an inch, and that pushes him to hurry, carefully maneuvering him on the couch, until Kudou’s leaning against the back, head tilted back slightly. He gently drags an eyelid up to see Kudou’s pupil blown out, black iris nearly covering blue. “Drugged too,” he murmurs, shaking his head.

Kaito pushes back the detective’s hair next, grimacing at the semi-dried blood along his left temple, and immediately gets to work.

It takes him around fifteen minutes to clean up Kudou’s face, placing a butterfly bandage on the cut across the detective’s cheek; Kaito makes a mental reminder to get some ice for Kudou’s eye that’s just starting to swell.

When he looks down again, there’s a moment of hesitation that freezes Kaito in his actions.

He’s not sure why it’s never crossed his mind, but he’d never thought the first time he undressed Kudou Shinichi would be when the man was halfway beaten to death, drugged to hell and unconscious on his couch.

Trust the universe to hand this to him, just like everything else—half of what he could ever want, the other half never a possibility in his grasp.

“Stop it, you idiot, the guy’s literally bleeding out,” he mutters irritatedly, and unbuttons Kudou’s shirt with purpose. Laid out like this, Kaito almost can’t tell it had been a white shirt once, with the amount of crimson slashes in it. Somehow he manages to get the sleeves off too, and when Kaito sees the brunt of injuries Kudou had sustained, he doesn’t quite manage to hold back a snarl.

There’s no obvious pattern to the cuts on Kudou’s skin; some of them are still bleeding while others look shallow enough to be treated with only ointment and a bandaid, but for a second burning rage nearly overcomes him and Kaito makes a promise to break into the Ekoda Police Department in the coming week to find more information about the case Kudou had been investigating.

(Might as well have something to do during the long summer nights.)

Heart in his throat, Kaito begins cleaning up the bloody wounds, hissing when some of them reopen and deftly treats them with more butterfly bandages and ointment. A couple of them required more, however, and Kaito goes to wash his hands as well as sanitize the necessary tools.

It’s as he’s suturing the final gash on Kudou’s forearm that he senses the body beside him ever so slightly tense for half a second, before relaxing.

“Don’t move, I’m almost done but my hands might slip,” he jokes.

Kudou snorts, but his eyes remain closed. “Lies,” he croaks out. “You’ve got the steadiest hands I know, and I fought against Kaitou Kid too many times to count.”

The name of his past alter-ego doesn’t faze him as much anymore these days when it slips out of Kudou’s lips, but Kaito still wonders why he’s never told the detective about their shared past.

It’s not as if Kaito could be arrested for it now, but.

“You put too much faith in me, Kudou-kun,” he replies instead, smirking and finishes up the suturing, bandaging the wound. “These will probably do for the night, but I suggest getting a professional to look them over as soon as possible,” he says, leaning back to watch Kudou.

It’s difficult to keep his eyes fixed on the detective’s face, when there’s an expanse of pale skin right in front of him, bruised though it may be, but Kaito manages to meet Kudou’s eyes when they blink open to look at him.

"Does being a magician give you enough practice on stitching up your own injuries?"

Kaito winks. "You're lucky you came to me. Aoko's handiwork is terrible, I've still got a weird looking scar on the back of my foot." Kudou doesn't laugh at that, but there's a smile playing on his lips, and Kaito feels a swoop of victory in his stomach for putting that there.

“You didn’t have to do this, Kuroba,” Kudou says after a moment, voice raspy and tired.

Kaito plasters on a grin, despite his mind desperately yelling at the obtuse man next to him. _Stupid, dense, clever Meitantei._ “Well, should I have left you on my doorstep, then?” he points out, rolling his eyes as he gathers the kit as well as the tub filled with dirty, bloodsoaked towels now. “I’m not sure if you can walk, considering you did pass out just now, but I’ve got a spare room and clean clothes if that sounds cool with you.”

“I don’t know if I should sleep,” Kudou answers, and Kaito catches sight of trembling fingers, one of the detective’s palms wrapped in gauze. “I should be in an intense amount of pain right now, considering the cuts, but the drugs…”

“Aoko brought back some of that fancy coffee when she came home from Italy with that asshole blondie last week,” Kaito offers, waggling his eyebrows, and Kudou nods slowly.

It’s past two o’clock by the time they’re settled back on Kaito’s couch, Kudou changed and wrapped in a blanket, a bag of ice on his swollen eye with Kaito’s laptop placed on the coffee table before them. He finds himself talking about classes, about Aoko and Hakuba, getting Kudou to share his own stories about Ran and the others, just to keep themselves awake, just to make sure he doesn’t end up scaring Kudou in case he falls into one of his dreams again.

But Kaito wakes up to Hato-chan cooing at his hair and dried drool trailing down from his mouth, the spot beside him devoid of a certain detective and vision partially blocked by a piece of paper.

It’s a post-it note, and Kaito wonders where the hell did Kudou even find one in his house, or if he’d been carrying it in his suit jacket and it had miraculously escaped any blood stains.

_Thank you for looking after me last night, Kuroba._

_Sorry if I worried you. But I really didn’t know where else to go._

_I’m glad it was you, though._

_PS. I fed Hato-chan. You need better names for your pets._

“God damn it, Meitantei,” Kaito grumbles, grin pulling at his mouth as he stares down at the messy handwriting. “I wasn’t worried,” he mutters, and looks up at Hato-chan, stroking her feathers.

“Not at all,” he sighs, shuddering, and resigns himself to nightmares of seeing Kudou Shinichi’s mangled body for the coming days, now that Kaito knows what it would look like if he was ever too late to save him.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed this one!


End file.
